Let me preface this article by sending my prayers to all those impacted by both Hurricane Katrina and Hurricane Rita, two devastating storms that have recently ravaged the Gulf of Mexico's coastal areas. I think I speak for everyone in saying that our thoughts and prayers go out to each of you in this time of need.
If any readers out there have access to a television, I'm sure you saw clips of the mass exodus responsible for the snarling of all routes leading out of Houston. And if you've ever read any of my pieces on this site, you may have gathered that I am a Houstonian myself.
Adding two-and-two together, you may also have figured out that my family and I were part of that exodus. While toiling through that traffic nightmare en route to Dallas (a four-and-one-half hour ride that was completed in a ridiculous 20 hours) was, to say the least, rough, it paled in comparison to Sunday's comparatively shorter six-hour ride home. How could a six-hour drive be worse than one taking 20 hours? Do I even need to answer that question?
As my family and I idled along in a convoy of family heading for home on Sunday afternoon, my mind was riddled with worry and guilt. Worry for what awaited me upon my arrival to my home in Houston (turns out all was well, save for some light wind damage and lots of spoiled perishables in my refrigerator); guilt for being upset with my wife for insisting we leave our cozy Dallas hotel on a Sunday full of compelling pigskin contests when so much real-life drama had unfolded just days earlier.
Sure, my responsibilities as a husband, father, homeowner and employee to a major natural gas company dictated that I should return home as soon as humanly possible. But it just doesn't seem right wasting 1/17th of an already too short football season swearing at traffic and praying for the next service station to have some available gas. Better judgment (my wife's words, not mine) prevailed, of course, and on the road we were come noon on Sunday. To this end, I've encapsulated the National Football League's third week of action from my point of view ... on the road in southeast Texas on a 100-degree Sunday afternoon battling traffic, gas shortages, and the unpredictability of AM radio.
11:47 AM My brother-in-law/co-pilot (who is a diehard Astros fan, I should add) for the trip has located a handy football pre-game show on the AM dial. At this point, we're just leaving our suburban Dallas hotel and things don't look as bad as I had initially anticipated. Nothing new in the news department, and I begin to transition into my usual Sunday afternoon mentality in preparation for what is sure to be an exciting few hours of football, even if I can't watch the unfolding action live and in color.
12:07 PM My "warm and fuzzy" feelings of contentment meet their first signs of resistance. It has dawned on me that this station serves up a delicious buffet of pre-game action, but does not provide listeners with an actual game. Still, it seems that this particular radio show will provide up-to-the-minute updates as they jump from on-site reporter to on-site reporter in all 11 cities hosting NFL games this weekend. Things are still looking up at this point, especially as I hear from the Minnesota pundit that Daunte Culpepper has tossed a touchdown pass, which should help out my fantasy team. This isn't so bad after all, I think to myself.
12:17 PM Woo-hoo! News from Miami is good ... the Dolphins have taken an early 7-0 lead on the Panthers with a TD to tight end Randy McMichael (who, coincidentally, is also on my fantasy team). I can certainly live vicariously through this station for the next few hours, anyway.
12:31 PM Still nothing but good news, though my co-pilot is beginning to tire of the constant football-related chatter emanating from my vehicle's squawk-box. As I said, he's a huge baseball fan and not as passionate as I over all-things football. I can overlook his complaints, however, in light of the fact that Miami now has a 10-3 lead on Carolina and Culpepper has chucked another TD pass against the Saints.
12:58 PM As we meander through the freeways leading out of Dallas, I decide to relent to my now visibly-shaken shotgun rider and allow him to surf the AM airwaves in search of an update on his Astros as they battle my Cubbies. All things considered, this hasn't been so bad after all. The Dolphins' lead is now 17-3, my fantasy outlook is bright, and I've had a solid hour of constant football updates, sating my appetite for the time being. My constitution is much better than I figured it would be at this point and I don't even get too perturbed at my wife's first call to my cell phone, which includes a 30-second diatribe on driving too fast (I am leading our convoy of six cars, full of my in-laws and other relatives and have unbeknownst to me opened up a sizeable gap between myself and car No. 2 in our entourage).
12:59 PM Trouble suddenly begins to brew in my happy little world. My brother-in-law has located a feed to Houston's baseball coverage. The silver lining to this cloud is that it is at least the Cubs that the 'Stros are playing this afternoon. Unfortunately, my beloved Cubbies are long since removed from the playoff race, which makes this little more than an item of passing interest to me. Though I have a very good relationship with this particular brother-in-law, I can't convince myself to insist on his returning the radio setting to that helpful football in-game show and I force myself to listen to an inning of this meaningless baseball game sans complaint.
1:08 PM Inning over, let's get back to the football scores. Noooooooooooooooo! It seems that football show has been replaced by a Dallas Cowboy pre-game show. And not just a simple get-you-ready-for-the-game type of show. This is a full-blown, Cowboy-centric propaganda-fest, complete with analysis from Richie Anderson and some bit on keys to winning which includes oh-so-obvious entries like "attack the defense" and "make good on third downs." Worse yet, the Cowboy game doesn't start until 3 PM. I am shocked an appalled to learn that this inane preparatory commentary will last for two solid hours. The ride has suddenly grown exponentially longer and more monotonous.
1:17 PM After listening for nearly ten minutes, I simply cannot justify to my counterpart any longer that we should listen to this Cowboy garbage. I instruct him to switch back to the Houston/Chicago game and I slump discouraged into my driver's seat. This is immediately followed by another call from the wife regarding my inability to pace myself on this trip with so many others following my lead.
1:18 PM We've both learned that Derrek Lee has homered the Cubbies to a 1-0 lead. At least I have that. I spend the next several minutes hurling good-natured barbs at my navigator knowing deep down inside that I really do mean what I'm saying. I hate the 'Stros and I hope they fall flat on their faces. Go Phillies. I just don't think I can take another playoff run from the home-town Astros, especially in light of today's football travesty. But I digress...
1:38 PM Still 1-0 in the baseball game and a rain delay has now gone into effect. At long last, I think to myself, we will surely be given a rundown of today's sporting information on this station as they kill time through the rain delay. Wrong again. It seems this baseball feed is inexplicably being carried on some psychotropic feel-good station. The break in baseball action returns the listeners to the regularly-scheduled programming, which is a call-in show about how you should treat others as you wish to be treated. Glad tidings abound on this show, but there is no happiness in Matt-ville, where my frustration has matured into full-blown desperation as I plead for someone, anyone, to give me fresh football scores. I talk my brother-in-law into surfing the airwaves once again, but find little solace.
1:42 PM After a fruitless search for someone with football info, we've returned to that damned Cowboy pre-game rhetoric. Those very same keys to winning are represented again verbatim. You'd think they'd at least change the presentation a bit. Alas, this is a Cowboy pre-game show and those mindless recluses would likely get confused. This ride really sucks.
2:11 PM I officially can no longer take Richie Anderson's gibberish. He's said exactly one intelligent thing since I've been listening, and that was little more than a recital of fact related to last week's Cowboy meltdown against the Redskins. I have taken over control of my radio and have found some scratchy station that fades in-and-out, but clearly is sports-related. The deafening silence is beginning to look like the best alternative to my current rage-filled search for football scores, but I'll give this station a try.
2:13 PM After "sushing" my neighbor's pleas for anything but this white-noise that I claim will give us football scores, I can barely make out a rundown of the day's action. Miami still leads, though 24-17 isn't exactly the strangle-hold I had hoped for. Jets have tied things up against Jacksonville and it sounds like the Vikes are destroying the poor, homeless Saints. Beyond that, I can make out little. But that will have to do for now. I again give up control of the radio having been somewhat vindicated for my patience.
2:14 PM Back to the baseball game, we learn that the action is just about to start up again. I can cope with this choice in listening fare, as Chicago holds onto a miniscule lead and this game will, if nothing else, cure my sports "jones" until we are in range of a viable replacement station.
2:59 PM After 45 minutes of uneventful baseball commentary, I am ready to hear some football again. We near the three o'clock hour, meaning final scores should be trickling in, and I'm ready and willing to listen to the Cowboys game, a clear indication that I likely have lost my mind. I take my first notice of our journey's progress and realize that we're making remarkable time considering the possibility for delays that we could have faced. It appears we're about two-and-one-half hours outside of Houston and, better yet, I've eyed a gas station that is open for business. A break is in order and I pull in, with our convoy in tow, still praying for the unrelenting frustration of a football-less Sunday to end. "Maybe they've got a TV," I think to myself.
3:22 PM No TV, but after refueling the vehicle at Exxon and ourselves at McDonald's, I race to beat my co-pilot into the car. Once settled behind the wheel, I frantically scan the AM dial for some news, good or bad. Eureka! We're in range of my favorite Houston AM sports station and I know that they have frequent sports ticker updates. Unfortunately, the station has been in emergency management mode since last Wednesday and now most of their programming revolves around disaster updates. Still, I know I must be diligent, as the sports updates will come eventually. But when?
3:40 PM After 15 minutes or so of stalling the resident Astros fan and his insistence that we return to the baseball game, I am rewarded with a full run-down of the early afternoon NFL action. Colts win behind another strong defensive performance (phooey). Vikings romp (good for my fantasy team, bad for the Saints, for whom you must feel some sense of sympathy). Bengals and Falcons win (my two Super Bowl picks, so I feel good about this). Most importantly, the Fish win behind a late field goal.
Adding a cherry to that sundae, I learn that the Jets not only lose their game in OT, but they also lose their top two QBs (though Jay Fiedler's stature as a No. 2 QB is a point of contention with me). Since I haven't yet mentioned it in this article, let me inform all the readers that I detest the Jets with all of my being. While I don't wish particular harm on anyone, I am strangely satisfied to learn that Pennington has aggravated his shoulder problem and will likely miss the rest of the season. I breathe a huge sigh of relief and again defer to my company as he relocates the baseball game on the radio.
4:02 PM Astros have tied the game up late. I knew this was coming. And there goes the lead on a single, scoring a player from second base. Again, saw it coming. Well, at least my Dolphins won. Still, I will now have to listen to my travel-mate rant on and on about his Astros.
4:13 PM Jeremy Burnitz has just hit an improbably homer to lift the Cubs to a 3-2 lead. This day full of trials and tribulations is finally looking to be a very good one indeed, though I wish the game would end so I could once again listen to some football. During one commercial break, I scanned the stations and found a live feed of the Patriots/Steelers game. Should be a good one and I really want to listen in.
4:38 PM Finally, Ryan Dempster has closed the door for the Cubs and the Astros are sent home losing two-of-three. Very nice indeed, now let's find that football game!
6:11 PM Fortunately for my sanity, I've convinced my travel companion to allow for us to listen to the Pats/Steelers game for nearly two hours straight. It has been a great game, and now all hangs in the balance pending a mid-range field goal from the Pats' Adam Vinatieri. Wonder what's going to happen ... as if. As suspected, the kick is up and good, and so ends our strange and wonderful trip. As the sounds of the raucous crowd pipe through my car's speakers, a shrill shriek of recognition is yelped by my brother-in-law as we approach Houston's city limits.
Lessons learned on this trip? Sure, there are several. Don't always believe the weatherman would be the frontrunner in this category, though I will say it is far better to be safe than to be sorry.
Secondly, on any long trip, I would strongly recommend riding in a car separate from your wife, 6-year-old son, and 1-year-old daughter. That's why they make mothers-in-law (they will happily keep their daughters/grandchildren company) and the sanity that you save not hearing a constant array of mother-child infighting, sports-related nagging, and pre-speech baby talk is worth its weight in gold.
Thirdly, it is not better to have not watched your team in a win than to have seen them in a loss. I can't stress that enough. Win or lose, true fans live or die with their teams, and having to wait on some damn AM station to bring you up to speed is almost as cruel a punishment as the Chinese water torture.
There was one final lesson. "Picking your battles" could and rightly should be applied to any situation where your wife is insisting upon undergoing a half-day long trip in lieu of relaxing in front of six hours of professional football action. It is true that God should always come first and family second, but football runs a close third and if neither of the other two are effected, what harm is done?
Take it from me on that last item, it is a battle well worth fighting. Work, home, and family will all wait ... football will not.
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